Conducts on a first date
by AirborneGirl
Summary: After a stressfull period, Harm and Mac finally go out on their first real date. Warning: Fluff ahead! Rating to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**Conducts on a first date**

**AN**: Wow! It's my 30th story! I never thought I'd get the hang of writing like this. And I never thought my stories would be read and liked as much as they seem to be. My statistics on this site are one enormous ego-boost. For which I thank all of you, truly.

So this story is FLUFF with capitals. Just felt like it. Enjoy...

**Spoil**ers: None I can think of, really.

**Disclaimer**: Even in this story, they're not mine. Though I have a package waiting for me at home, could it be...nah...oh well...

_On we go..._

_Mac's POV _

It's been so busy as of late, I really have no idea how I kept myself going for so long. These past few weeks have been all about the Polenski-case. Petty officer Sandor Polenski was charged with owning and distributing child pornography, and if that wasn't bad enough, one of the kids in the pictures turned out to be the kidnapped (and later found dead) daughter of Nelson Cartwright, a New Jersey upcoming politician, who broke off his campaign for governor of said state when he learned of her death.

Needless to say, this case was about as high-profiled as they could get, with lots of media-coverage until even the SecNav had to meddle into it, breathing down everybody's neck to get this mess sorted out, YESTERDAY!

I was put on the defense counsel for Sandor Polenski, with Sturgis as prosecutor. Luckily, I got my hands on Bud as co-counsel, without his help I would have drowned. And with Harm TAD on the USS Seahawk for an alleged technical screw-up, I had nobody to divert my attention or to provide me with one of his famous rabbit-out-of-a-hat solutions.

It took all my influence, all my knowledge, all my techniques, not to mention all of my time plus the extra overtime to prove that even though my client was absolutely guilty as charged for spreading the (sickening) pictures (there was no way I could have gotten him out of that charge and frankly, I didn't wanna try), but that he didn't have anything to do with the kidnapping and/or murder of seven-year-old Julia Cartwright.

Luckily for the petty officer, forensics couldn't place him at the scene of the crime or even near the child and his alibi checked out, so he was found not guilty on those charges. But he got a sentence of seven years of hard labor at Leavenworth, plus counseling, followed by a dishonorary discharge from the US Navy. As a lawyer, I think that's the best I could do for him. As a woman, I feel he got away too easily.

And of course, so far, the real murderer has yet to be found. The thought of this person still being at large makes my stomach churn.

After this little rehash, I think one would agree I could use a break. Even the admiral has noticed the weary look on my face when I debriefed him. He actually offered me the rest of the day off. I guess the bags underneath my eyes are a silent testimony of the many sleepless nights I had this past three weeks.

Now normally, I would try to refuse, even just for conduct sake. I'm a marine, this was not the first politically charged tough case I had to wad through (disgusting as it was; I've seen worse) and it certainly won't be the last.

But the fact that this time, all I could say was "thank you, sir," before all but running out of the bullpen to gather my stuff and say goodbye should say how both physically and mentally exhausted this whole case has left me.

Just as I'm about to reward myself with a long soak in the bathtub with my favorite bubble bath oil, my favorite music, some fine Belgian chocolate (gift from Harm) and a horribly cheesy novel, my phone rings.

Damn! I surely hope the Admiral hasn't changed his mind or that something else hasn't come up that needs my attention. Right now, the whole world around me could fall apart for all I care, I'm having a selfish moment of pampering planned and I don't want to be disturbed.

That doesn't stop the phone from ringing, though. Sure, I can let the machine pick it up, but hearing bad news over the machine has never worked well for me. So, sighing, I pick up the phone anyway, without checking caller ID. If I had, I would have known there's no reason to be anxious.

"MacKenzie."

"Hi, Jarhead. What are you doing home on a normal Wednesday afternoon? Playing hooky?"

Harm. My annoyance leaves my body immediately, to be replaced by the warm and fuzzy feeling always appearing in my stomach when my handsome partner addresses me. I'm almost childishly happy to hear from him. Whenever he's TAD I tend to miss him, even if there's nothing special going on between us.

Of course, everything Harm and I share is special to me, but we're (sadly) not involved. Sometimes I think I would give everything I own to accomplish that, but most of the time, I guess I feel lucky to have such a wonderful friend in my life. My voice filled with happiness, I answer him, scolding him for his choice of words. Which sets off out usual banter.

"With permission, Squid."

"Isn't that spoiling the fun of playing hooky?"

"Harm, I wasn't playing hooky!"

"I figured as much. Too bad."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, too bad. You see, I am."

"You're what?"

"Duh. Playing hooky of course. I settled the matter on the Seahawk, caught the red-eye last night, haven't been in to see the Admiral yet. Officially, it means I'm playing hooky."

"It's called being UA, smart ass. And how's that too bad that I'm not?"

I try not to grin, knowing he'll get away with it. He always does. Hell, Harm flashes a smile and he can get away with firing an automatic gun in court. I know that for a fact. He did fire an automatic gun in court. And got away. Didn't even stop his steady rise on the promotions list.

His answer therefore shouldn't surprise me. But for some reason, it does.

"I just thought it would be fun to have an accomplice."

"Since when do you need one?"

"I don't, just makes it more fun when we end up in the brig. We could clang our tin cups against the bars in sync, get those cute matching overalls, no to mention letting our imaginations loose on a pair of handcuffs. Come to think of it…"

"Think of what, Flyboy? Do I even dare to ask?"

"Of course, you're a mean, lean, though, kick-ass, Semper-Fi Marine, of course you dare to ask."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, but why do I dread the answer?"

"Because it's me, maybe? But, what's the question again?"

"Harm…"

I have to scold him, even if it's just because there's no way I can tell him how quickly I'm losing track of our topic myself. His low chuckle sets off a multitude of butterflies in my abdomen…what were we talking about again? Oh, right, I remember (_AN_: if I couldn't read back my own ramblings, I would have lost track. I almost did)

"You were saying something about me being an accomplice…"

"Oh, right. I just figured that since you know where I am during my period of being UA, you are already an accomplice, or at the least an accessory."

"Harm, you're on your cell-phone, you could be anywhere. I have no clue where you are."

"That's about to change, Ninja-girl."

That's when he hangs up on me. Just like that. For a moment I just sit there, blinking owlishly at my phone, before putting it back on its cradle, scolding myself for taking the bait. Again.

_Harm's POV_

Where normally there's nothing that can make me happier than being TAD to an aircraft carrier, this time it has left me wrecked. There's nothing funny about a mechanical defect on a ship like that, since any loose screw can literally put hundreds of lives in immediate danger, it's even worse when it happens so often people start to think about sabotage.

That's where I come in. To investigate any foul play and if so, get the suspects to court. Now I don't like playing bad cop with potentially good people, some of them kids with promising careers ahead of them, some young men or women with simply no other prospect. To bully them into witness reports and/or confessions is not my style, only when I get very frustrated…and I did get very frustrated.

Nobody could be happier than I was when the culprit was found. And when the whole incident turned out to be just that. Some anticlimax, but a very welcome one.

Our saboteur was just a rookie seaman who had simply tried to follow his orders, but had misunderstood his technical instructions and was never corrected, thus making the same honest mistake over and over again. A rehash of his studies for the kid, a reprimand for his instructor (he should have seen this kid failing) and that was that. Too bad I didn't get to fly a Tomcat…oh well, I'm gonna have to do my quals in a month or three anyways.

Too bad also that I didn't get to stand by Mac. I've heard about her case through the news and several grapevines and I feel sorry for the impossible position it got her into. Those mobs outside would have lynched her client and even though the guy is obviously a nasty pervert who deserves to be locked away, that kidnapping wasn't his job, so there's no reason to direct all the anger toward him. But tell that to the angry population or to the grief struck parents of the murdered child.

When it comes to handling cases where children are involved, we all take it hard, but sometimes I expect it shakes Mac harder than most. Maybe because she'd make such a wonderful mom, with her compassionate nature_. Her brains, my looks…_

She did well all things considering, as I expected her to, but right now, I think I should make sure she's okay. I've caught the red-eye home and even though I'm groggy and jet-lagged, Mac's well being is a greater concern to me than my own. Always has been.

I'm currently sitting in my car on the parking lot of the local Supermarket where I bought enough to restock three fridges. Maybe Mac wants to come over for dinner sometime this week, which means I need all the food I can get. Another thing that'll never seize to amaze me. She can eat like pig, yet she's skinny as a twig. A twig with beautiful curves in all the right places…down boy!

Well, no time like the present, why not invite her right now? At least it'll be a nice message for her to come home to tonight after work. I hope.

So before I even report back in to the Admiral (he doesn't expect me to be back until tomorrow and why give him a reason to think I am?), I pick up my phone to leave a message on my Marine's (yes, I think of her as mine) machine. To my surprise, she picks up.

Playing hooky too, huh? That changes the plan. During our usual banter back and forth, I turn the car not to my, but directly to her place. No time like the present and suddenly I can't wait to see her. So why would I?

_Mac's POV_

A knock on my door disturbs my thoughts. Without thinking I open it to reveal…

"Howdy, cellmate."

You gotta be kidding me.

A smile is splayed across his lips and the assortment of critters in my stomach do the boogie-woogie while I desperately bite back a grin of my own. He's goofy and endearing and I love him to pieces.

"Is there a warrant out for your arrest yet?"

I open the door further and he struts in like he belongs here. Which of course, he does. Unceremoniously, he drops three paper bags of food on my kitchen counter before turning on me to give me an answer.

"Shouldn't matter too much to you. You've harbored a fugitive before."

"Only because of the fabulous backrub he gave me."

Playfully, he grabs my shoulders and I can hear him wince as he does. All of a sudden, his whole tone of voice has changed when he talks to me again. It's sensitive, worried even.

"Wow, you're wound up like a Swiss clock, which you are, but still…you really could use another one of those backrubs."

I'm about to protest. He doesn't have to pamper me like this. I'm sure he's got better things to do on a beautiful sunny day like this one. Strange, by the way, I hadn't noticed it being this beautiful outside. Maybe because of my busy weeks.

Meanwhile, Harm has cleared a spot on the couch for himself and me and pats the seat next to him, eyes pleading.

"Come here, sit down."

I do as he orders me to and can't hold back the moan that escapes from my throat as he begins his firm but gentle ministrations to loosen the knots in my back and neck. Harm has amazing hands. It's a blessing I'm already sitting. And both blessing and curse that I still have my shirt on.

"Like that, Ninja?"

"Hmmm."

My vocal cords are shutting off and so is half my brain. I can only purr and moan. This is so much better than a bubble bath. Of course, both a bath and a backrub and Harm at the same time would be heaven…down, Marine!

"Tough case, huh?"

I almost want to strangle him for ruining my fantasy by talking, but his question is so sincere, it does deserve an answer.

"Awful. It was so hard to try and stay focused, unbiased, neutral. I was supposed to defend this guy while all I really wanted to do was to nail him to the cross. But what's worse, this little girl's killer is still out there somewhere. He can do it again, he…"

Firm hands hold me in my place. Without slowing down, he rubs my shoulder blades in soothing circles.

"Mac, you did all you could. The guy was found guilty of spreading those terrible pictures, but apparently he wasn't the one who took them, and he wasn't the one who took that little girl."

"But the guy who did is still…"

"Running free, I know. But he'll get what's coming to him, someday. He'll be found, they'll charge him and he'll be put away for a long time. Maybe they won't get to him for a while and it sickens me too knowing that there are people out there capable of doing these things. But you're not a superhero, Mac. You do your job very well, better than anyone, but this is out of your league. Let it go, Mac. You have to let it go."

He's right. Of course he is. And thanks to his magic, I feel myself relax.

_Harm's POV_

She's either very tired, or I'm very boring company. In order not to hurt my ego, I opt for curtain number 1 when after just a few more soft strokes her breath evens out and she's sleeping like a baby.

For a moment I just sit there, looking at her, while a wave of tenderness and love washes over me, so powerful it almost makes me pass out.

There's just no way she's gonna be comfortable lying there on her midget-sized sofa. It'll do more damage to her back than just a few rubs can cure, though if she would ask, I'd give it my best shot. I guess I'll just have to move her over to her bed.

I'm half hoping she wakes up, half hoping the opposite. If she wakes, she might actually see all the love I feel for her and enjoy the fact she's in my arms just as much as I already know I'll enjoy holding her this close to me. But on the other hand, if she wakes she might think I'm taking advantage of her fatigue and tired or not, she'll deck me, thus eliminating the possibility of our baby-deal taking place, in the near or far future.

As carefully as I can, I scoop her up from her resting place and carry my precious cargo to the bedroom. I take off her shoes, but dare not to take off more. If hopefully one day I'll be given a chance to undress my beautiful Marine, I do want her to be wide-awake.

With a tenderness I didn't know I had, I pull her quilt over her and tuck her in. I can't help myself as I bend over to push a lock of hair out of her face. She looks so vulnerable right now. Nothing Ninja about her. Just a beautiful woman.

Get a hold of yourself Rabb, before you can't control the urge to crawl in next to her. She'll do a lot more than castrating you if she finds you there when she opens her eyes. Pulling myself reluctantly away, I rummage through her desk to find a notebook and pen to leave her a message. The result of my poetic inspiration (yeah, right) I put on her nightstand. She'll find it there, I'm sure.

Before leaving her apartment, I take a look at my grocery bags and as I promised her in the note, I pile heaps of healthy food in her fridge, which as usual contains nothing more than pizza, frozen TV-dinners, pints of Ben & Jerry's and several variations of unidentified road kill. Even if she won't eat anything green other than an M&M that happens to have that color (claiming that by eating herbivores, she doesn't want to turn into one), she'll be pleased with the gesture. I know that much.

Catching one more glimpse of her lithe sleeping form, I close the door behind me and lock it carefully. Sweet dreams, Ninja Girl.

_So far, so good? Let me know..._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: As always: Thanks everybody for your kind reviews. Here's another chapter for you. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: I wanted to order them from E-bay, but they were sooooo beyond budget...oh well.

_Here we go..._

_Mac's POV _

The following morning, I find myself in my bed, covered with my quilt. My shoes are off, but that's it. For a moment, this confuses me, since I can't remember how I got here. Until, one by one, my remaining brain cells wake up and I remember. A talk over the phone, a backrub, another healing talk…I must have fallen asleep on the couch. Which means Harm must have carried me in here.

I've slept for a solid fifteen hours and seventeen minutes and apart from the fact that I'm starving (not having eaten anything since lunch yesterday), I feel wonderful and fresh.

When I sit up, stifling a last yawn, I see the note perched on my nightstand against my lamp.

_Good morning Sleeping Beauty,_

_Well, so much for my plans of escaping with you…I had the getaway car ready downstairs, engine running_…_and you black out on me._

_Just kidding (duh). You looked so exhausted I'm grateful you could close your eyes and get some much-needed winks. __Hope that by the time you read this, it's close to morning and you feel okay again. Glad I could be there for you, Marine._

_Looks like you need someone to watch your pretty six and who'd be better to step up to that plate than your best friend, huh?_

_You've lost weight too, I could tell. More home cooked meals for you, I'll be happy to provide. __For starters, I've stocked your fridge for you. All the good stuff is there (Beltway Burgers are most definitely not considered good stuff), __everything you like, or ought to like._

_I know you hate me hovering over you, but indulge. You're my best friend and therefore I have the right, even the obligation to fret over you._

_Anyway, I hope you don't mind I carried you to your bedroom, though next time that happens you'd better be wide awake. _

_If you do mind, sue me. You'll probably win. Or deck me; you'll win that too._

_See you at HQ, after my chew-out (a.k.a. debriefing) from the Admiral._

_Harm_

It's such a sweet note I almost tear up. And even though I don't think he meant anything more than a prank referring to him carrying me, I do agree with him. I wish I'd been awake too.

_A few weeks later…Harm's POV_

For the past few weeks, ever since I got back from the Seahawk, I've been trying to find a way to get more involved in Mac's personal life. Not that I'm not already a big part of it, but as of late, our working dinners are more work than dinner and even if we banter or discuss, it's always about a case. We've been kept so busy that there isn't any time left to be anything but friendly coworkers. And I want us to be friends first. Maybe something more later, but friends first and foremost. Friends who have more topics of conversation than the Landell's article 32 hearing or our witness-lists for the prosecution of seaman Jeffries.

Which means I actually have to plan around work to get her to spend some quality time with me. Luckily, the end of the tunnel is finally in sight after our court-dates next week, so I have to take my chances soon.

But what to do? Dinner and a movie is too…normal. We're so used it, it's hardly a treat. Not that I don't consider spending any kind of time doing whatever with my marine as a treat, by I do feel the need to upgrade our quality time a little.

As they say, coincidence doesn't exist, so just as I was pondering the possibilities, mom called. With an offer I couldn't refuse. I can finally plan my perfect date. I have to report early tomorrow morning, having spent the entire afternoon at Pensacola, working on a UA case. I talked on the phone with her yesterday at lunch and I could tell she missed me. I missed her too.

That's it. I'll ask her tomorrow.

_Next day, Mac's office, Mac's POV_

"I'm sorry ma'am, but we're sold out, except for the balcony seats, but they are very expensive."

"Can you name me a prize?"

The number that I hear is indeed way beyond my budget, so I sigh and relent.

"I'm afraid that won't work. But thanks for checking anyway."

"You're welcome. Good afternoon."

I wish the detached female voice on the phone the same before I hang up disappointed. I'd really, really wanted to go to the ballet. It's been a while since I've treated myself to an outing I very much enjoy and I had my heart set on this performance. But of course, with my luck these days (just as I wrapped up the Polenski case, I had two more thrown into my lap), it just had to be practically sold out.

A knock on my doorpost startles me and I hastily choke back a curse, as certain tall and handsome Sailor slash Flyboy who became lawyer struts in.

"Hi Mac."

"Hey Sailor. I thought you were still in Pensacola. I didn't know you'd be back today."

Harm's been great to me these past few weeks. Not only did I get that amazing backrub, he stocked my fridge with all this health food (which he knows I won't touch, but appreciate immensely), dropped by regularly, even if it's only to cook for me (or order in) and talk cases …we're so much together, we're practically dating. Except that well…we're not. Lost in thoughts as I always get around him, I almost miss his answer.

"Neither did I, but I found one key eye-witness and several people who confirmed my client's alibi. The prosecution had nothing. There won't be a court-martial."

"Very nice, Commander."

"Thanks. Now tell me, why were you swearing just now?"

Damn. He heard that.

"Cause I wanted to go to the ballet next Friday, but they were all sold out."

"Too bad. I know how much you love to go."

He does. He's one of the very few who knows that even though I can hold my own in this male-dominated world, I sometimes have a knack for more girly things like ballet. Still, the same military training prevents me from being too upset, or rather, showing it too much. So I simply shrug.

"My own fault. I should have tried a lot sooner. Those things tend to sell out within a day. Nothing to be done about that anymore I guess."

Harm just grins, the easy, lazy smirk that as usual makes me glad I'm sitting down. Otherwise my knees would give. I told him when we first met that his smile wouldn't get him anywhere with me, but the moment I said it, I already knew I lied. Whenever he turns on the full megawatts, I'm floored, just like ninety-five percent of the entire breathing female species. And some males no doubt.

His offer makes me return the smile with gratitude.

"Well, since that means you're free next Friday, can I persuade you to come over to my place? I'll make dinner, we can go out, see a movie, something like that?"

Wait...is Harm asking me out? Like, on a date? This sounds different… there's this obvious hesitation in his voice, as if he's afraid I'll turn him down. I have turned him down before, buried up to my neck in cases and long overdue paperwork and he's never as much as seconds guessed nor pressed the matter. I don't know what's different this time, but it just…is.

Could be this is wishful thinking due to sleep deprivation. Since I'm either dreaming about cases or Harm, I wake up in either a very cold or very hot sweat almost every single night, making me less and less focused. The Admiral had called me on it day before yesterday, first chewing me out for a rookie mistake in my weekly report and then asking me in his fatherly mode if I was sure I was okay and if I got enough sleep. Now I told the Admiral about the bad dreams, but how could I confide in him about the 'good' ones? Cause they are just so…good.

But what if my mind is not turning this into anything more and this really is meant as a date. Does that mean he's finally, finally making a move, or am I just a substitute for an otherwise lonely evening? I mull this over for a few more seconds before I shrug. Doesn't really matter, I guess. I like to spend time with him every which way.

He's still waiting for my answer, more patient than I know him to be, most of the time.

"You're on. But only if I can pick out the movie."

His eyes show something that closely resembles relief, but it's quickly masked, so I'm not sure what it was. He continues almost business-like.

"As long as it's not the cheesiest chick-flick, I'm okay with that. If you can be at my place at around 18.00?"

"I'll be there."

"Great."

Another breathtaking grin and he's out. He turns when he reaches the doorframe and looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, and Mac? Can you wear one of your pretty dresses? I love seeing you in civvies, especially the dresses. And I promise I won't disappoint you either."

He's out of the office with the speed of sound.

Definitely a date. As I try to keep my heart inside my chest, I nod mutely to myself, already envisioning my entire wardrobe to find the nicest dress. And deciding I absolutely need to go shopping.

_Harm's POV, a few moments later…_

She said yes!!! I had the guts to ask her out and she said yes!!! Since I'm at the office, in uniform, supposedly a senior staff member, I refrain myself from doing something crazy like a happy-dance or summersaults. I don't even do summersaults, except when I'm in a Tomcat or my beloved Steerman Sarah.

But you have to admit, this plan of mine sounds better every time. Like I said, there no such thing as coincidence. This is the gods laughing at me.

I only hope she doesn't suspect anything, this is supposed to be a surprise. So hopefully, I made the invitation sound…normal. Did it? And what's the difference anyway?

To me, while I was planning this surprise night out, it gradually shifted from being just a well-deserved night out with a friend to…well…more. Planning this, asking her to go, hinting her to wear a pretty dress, having my tux dry cleaned and pressed…this constitutes as a date, doesn't it? Let's go over the steps again.

I'll cook for her myself. She likes my cooking, I can keep an eye on her eating habits and I like to create the atmosphere of intimacy myself. Several ex-girlfriends have testified that I'm pretty good at that, but for many obvious and even more not so obvious reasons I've never tried it on Sarah. And I can only hope she likes it.

Then, while dinner is cooking and the table is set, I'll change into my tux. Wonder what she'll think of that, as I think she's never seen me wear it before. Every posh occasion I've ever escorted her to has always been work-related, which means mess dress uniform, but never has she been taken out by me in tux.

She'll be there on time (thanks to that clock of hers, and the secret behind it which she still won't reveal to me), we'll enjoy dinner, some light conversation, before I'll take gorgeous Sarah out. After that…I don't even dare to let my mind go there…

I haven't been this nervous since junior high. And I just realized I keep calling her Sarah….

_Mac's POV_

_Friday evening…_

Shopping worked out well for me. I found the perfect dress and even better; it was on sale. It's a very dark midnight blue with tiny sparkly beads on the spaghetti shoulder straps. With my silver high-heeled slippers and just the tiniest diamond studs in my ears it should look just fine. Not too overdone, for a date with my partner. A date. No, make that THE DATE. Oh my, please somebody make sure I don't forget to breathe…

So now I'm dressed to impress and ready to go. But not before I've completely ransacked my entire bedroom, leaving it like hurricane detour zone. Who knew you can get one room this messy when all I did was take a bath, scrub, shave and lotion my body (taking special care of some of the more 'important' areas) fix my hair, polish the nails of fingers and toes in a nice shade of pink, put the same color of lipstick on my mouth, turn my jewelry box upside down in a frantic search for my diamond pendant and studs, get out the (also new) Victoria's Secrets strapless bra and thong, etcetera.

Nothing out of the ordinary for a girl going out on a date, right? And no, FYI, I don't think anything's actually going to happen tonight. But I'm a Marine, and we never go anywhere unless prepared.

Okay, so maybe the little heart I drew with my lipstick on the edge of the mirror of my vanity in my giddy mood was a bit over the top, not to mention very hard to scrub off, but hey, I feel romantic tonight. And there's no section in the UCMJ that says that, as a Marine, you're not allowed to feel romantic. So there you go.

In my car, I use the mirrors in a way only women do: to check my carefully applied make-up (again) and give my hair a last brush before I back out of my parking spot and set out to meet Harm.

Involuntarily my body starts to tingle just thinking about the tall, dark and handsome Navy aviator waiting for me. I scold myself as my palms get sweaty while my throat feels dry as I walk up to his apartment. It's supposed to be the other way around isn't it? But boy, do I feel like a nervous schoolgirl here. And why exactly is that? I mean, it's not like I haven't been here before. Even more so the last few weeks. So I know what to expect, don't I?

Turns out, I really didn't. Harm has me surprised from the moment I step in. I'm surrounded by soft music, warm glowing candlelight and Harm dressed in…o wow…He's in tuxedo and let me tell you, James Bond has nothing on him. Please don't let me be drooling…breathe in, breathe out…that's it, Mac…just breathe…

He grins easily when he lets me in, but the cocky composure is dropped the minute he helps me out of my coat. His lower jaw drops as he gazes over me, taking me in like a starving man; the look in his blue eyes giving me more of a compliment than his voice ever could. I'm so touched I feel all teary. And I'll ruin my mascara if I cry. Please, make a joke, MacKenzie, do something to ease the tension. You don't know if you're ready for it. Or if he is for that matter.

"Catching flies, Sailor?"

His mouth closes almost comically, but soon the smile is back and so is the perfect space in our lives that only the two of us occupy.

_Harm's POV_

When I asked her to wear one of her pretty dresses, I had no idea how she would take it, but I certainly got more than I bargained for. She's…my usual swagger leaves me. But I think she could put an angel to shame with that dress, the curves of her body, the soft shine on her lips. I'm aware of the fact that I'm ogling her like I've never seen another woman before (and I haven't, not one like her for sure) but I'm too far gone to correct myself. The only reason I can hold on to the leftovers of my dignity is the slow realization that she seems to appreciate the view about as much as I do. We'll be okay.

As the gentleman that I am, I offer her my arm and escort her to my table, set with my best linens and plates. Three roses, two white ones and one red one are set in a sleek little vase in the middle and a white candle is casting a soft glow, setting sparks off my (well, Grandma Sarah's) immaculate crystal champagne glasses. I found this wonderful sparkling cider at a deli downtown. It's festive and it tastes remarkably like the real thing. For a moment Mac frowns when she spots the bottle in the cooler, but immediately she relaxes again, knowing I would never present her with anything alcoholic. Hell, I even made non-alcoholic tiramisu for desert.

With a soft, jazzy tune in the background, I think I've done everything I can to start this evening off in the right atmosphere.

_Next installment...the date...hang in there, people!_


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** My profound apologies for not updating any sooner, but I got tangled up in writing some other stories and well...life in general, I suppose. But I hope you'll enjoy this chapter anyway!

**Spoilers**: I asked my boss for a raise so I could pay for them, but what do you think? Nothing! Oh well...

_Here we go..._

_Mac's POV_

His food is as wonderful as it always is, or so I assume. I have no clue what I'm eating, I only have eyes for the one I want to eat…down, Marine!

After dinner, he quickly stashes away the dirty dishes, blows out the candle and turns off the stereo, all in one swift motion (despite of his height, he's so elegant), before helping me into my coat, his hands brushing against my bare shoulders, causing me to shudder. Yes, it takes only that to almost cause the complete physical, literal and mental meltdown of a Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Marine Corps. Let me tell you, it feels one helluva lot better than it sounds.

When I shoot him a surprised look, he just smiles again, o so innocently, like he didn't notice anything wrong. I'm sure he hasn't only noticed, but he's enjoying it tremendously too. I know him too well.

"We're going out, remember?"

Sure I remember, Squid. I don't say this out loud, since every single brain-cell has gone haywire, including those which normally regulate speech. Or breathing. Or thinking. Or moving.

Somehow I get out of the door, into his car. We're going out. Just established as much. Makes sense too, we're dressed to impress. But whereto? I know better than just to ask. It's clear he has something grand in mind. Dinner's out of the question, we just ate. But we've already passed some movie theaters on our way and we're not heading for the coast. Nor the beltway, which means that we're probably staying within the city's boundaries. Curiosity's quickly getting the best of me now. Come on, all you have to do is ask.

"Harm? Where are we going?"

"Downtown."

No shit.

"Gee thanks, genius. I figured that one out for myself."

"So why ask?"

Frustrating man! But I wanna know and I wanna know now!

"Ha-arm?"

Dear Lord, the man has me whining.

"Ye-es?"

And he's aware of it too, adopting the same tone with a devilish grin. I could strangle him if he wasn't driving. And if he didn't look so awfully handsome.

"Where are we going?"

"Short-term memory loss, Marine? That question is asked and answered already."

"Asked, yes. Answered, no."

I sigh, curiosity trading places with annoyance.

"Answered, yes. Sufficiently for the moment."

He shoots me a sideway glance and places his right hand on top of mine on my left knee. I swallow. Hard. He just smiles.

"Trust me, Sarah, you'll love it."

"I'm sure I wi…"

Wait. Hold on. Stop!!! Did he just call me Sarah?

His hand squeezes mine reassuringly before he has to shift gear to take a turn. I don't take notice. He called me Sarah…

He takes another turn towards a parking lot, but I couldn't care less where we are. He called me Sarah…

And no, I'm still not over it when he walks around the car to open my door, stretching his hand to help me out, like the gentleman he is. Right now, I'm sure I don't care where we are. It could be sumo wrestling, or a demolition derby for that matter, I'd be happy to join him.

It's not a demolition derby. Nor two fat Asian guys bumping into each other. Not by a long shot. I mean, there's usually no valet parking at those kinds of occasions, is there? We're at something very posh. It's…how the hell?

"Harm?"

My voice is nothing but a squeak. His is soft and content. He must enjoy the fact he surprised me tonight.

"Told you you'd love it."

His hands rummage through his pockets and come up one empty and the other holding two tickets to the ballet. The one I've been dying to see. He gives one to me and as I scan it, I squeak again. Balcony seats. The best in the hall. The ones I would have to sell my apartment for if I wanted to afford them.

"How…?"

"Hey, I'm not gonna give away my little secret. You just have to know which buttons to push."

I raise a very suggestive eyebrow and he sighs exasperated, while trying to hide an amused smile.

"Red light, Colonel. Get your head out of the gutter. Those buttons were a figure of speech, not the clothes on the figure of a lady."

"You don't owe me an explanation, Harm."

"For what? The buttons or the tickets?"

It's so easy to take the bait and have him go on about buttons and such (maybe even getting to talk about zippers next…), but I know him, he'll retreat and that would be the end of our so far, perfect date. So no, I opt for the safe way out.

"The latter, Flyboy."

Is it me or does he look disappointed?

My thoughts are momentarily interrupted as Harm gets his car keys returned. Thanking the young man, we turn to the steps leading to the entrance, as Harm starts explaining.

"I don't want your imagination to run away with you. So this time, and this time only, I'll tell. Meanwhile, we'd better get inside."

He offers me his arm, not even momentarily forgetting his gentleman manners and I bite back a smile. He can be so adorable.

"You know mom runs a gallery, right?"

At my confirmative nod, he goes on.

"One of the artists she represents is a man whose daughter dances here at the ballet. He gave her those tickets as a gift, a token of his appreciation. Now originally, she planned on coming over to see it herself, but something came up and so she called me to ask if I knew someone who would like to make use of them. And I thought of you. How's that?"

"Wow, remind me to thank your mom."

"Forget it. I had to sell my soul to the devil before getting these. I promised her I'd come help Frank build a new porch this summer. These tickets here were bought with sweat and hard labor, Honey."

The wonderful mental image of Harm in tight jeans with a bare sweaty chest sets itself in my mind until his last word registers. Honey? First he calls me Sarah, now I'm Honey? This world is spinning right out of its orbit.

Inside, he takes my coat, again his palms brushing my shoulders and again a luscious tremble floats through me. This time, he does comment upon it.

"You cold, Sarah?"

There he goes with my given name again. Makes me anything but cold and by the look of things, he knows it. All too well. All I can think of to save face, is denial. Worked in the past, should work now.

"Not cold, I'm okay."

Then out of the blue, he encircles my waist from behind, pulling me against him. Not aggressively, but tenderly, almost lovingly. His warm breath tickles against my neck and all that's holding me up right now are his arms.

"Too bad. It would be my pleasure to warm you up. Sure you're not cold?"

Maybe I'm imagining it, but I can feel his lips press a tiny kiss at the base of my neck. So no, I'm not cold. I'm having a fever. And the hallucinations that come with it. But hey, I can lie. For the good of the cause.

"I might be a bit cold."

He chuckles in acknowledgement of my blatant lie and the vibrations of his chest add another degree to my body temperature.

His grip tightens and for a moment that I wish would last a lifetime but feels like a nanosecond, we just stand there, me wrapped up snuggly in the embrace of the man I'm so totally in love with.

The bell indicating the dance is about to start (every pun intended), startles me. Normally my internal clock would have warned me, but it's temporarily been shut off from its surroundings. I think it might have perished in the warm puddle of goo that's my stomach right now.

Harm very slowly and reluctantly lets go of me as he quickly gives our coats to the receptions clerk. Now I feel cold. Come back, right this instant! That's an order from a pissed, desperate Marine.

He's back in a flash, maybe with the same thought in mind.

Turns out we have the balcony all to ourselves, while it easily holds a party of six. But since they're the most expensive and luxurious seats in the theatre, they probably weren't sold out. I couldn't care less. In fact I can't believe my luck tonight. An entire closed of little space for me and my Naval hero.

Gallantly, Harm helps me into my chair. It's strange when you think of it. Normally, I tend to want to slap men down when they try to play knight in shining armor, as the Marine in me doesn't like the implication that I need it. With Harm though, it's different.

Maybe that's because he doesn't play a role, he doesn't act. His usual demeanor and gallant manners around any female just bares the evidence of his upbringing and his strong, albeit slightly outdated morale. And maybe because whenever I'm with him, I'm not in Marine mode and I let the woman in me take over. The woman who loves the attention and takes pride in being treated this well. I can almost feel I deserve this.

The ballet starts and I'm enthralled. Very un-ladylike I lean over the balcony so I can get a closer watch. This is so beautiful. Suddenly I find myself wondering if Harm's enjoying himself as much as I am. Somehow he doesn't strike me as the ballet-type.

So I sneak a quick glance at my partner. And almost choke as I do. His pupils are dilated as wide as they can get and his gaze is so intense...It's the determined look of the fighter pilot, locked in on it's target. And no, it's not the ballet he's transfixed on. All focus of this 6'4" Flyboy… is on me.

He doesn't even look away.

Harm's POV 

I don't like ballet. There, I said it. Or thought it, whatever. Sure I can understand how difficult it is and I do have amazing respect for the discipline it must take to dance on such a high level. When it comes to physical fitness, those people on stage could probably kick several naval officers' ass! But as a form of art, it's too tedious for a guy like me.

So why go there? Simple. Because she loves it. And because I love to please her. Her look of pleasant surprise when we got out of the car was my first reward.

The second was grabbing hold of her in the lobby. Just pulling her close to me, smelling her delicate perfume, pressing a kiss at the back of her neck, just allowing myself to touch her with a lover's touch if only for a moment. And her allowing me to. That's why I'm here.

And while she's sitting next to me on the plush balcony seats, captivated by the performance, leaning over to make sure she catches every move, she's the one who's captivating me.

With my night vision perfectly restored, my eyes adjust to the dimmed interior without any problem and as we're in a secluded area, I'm presented with the perfect opportunity to observe (something very different from ogling) the breathtaking form of Sarah MacKenzie.

I've always thought of her as a beautiful woman, no doubt about that. Yes, she's a Marine, one who can and will attack any predator trying to hurt her in any way. She can and will do the same for me. Has done so for me. And on several occasions she's graciously stepped back to let me take some action.

I like to think of myself as not just any man, when it comes to this particular woman. Dalton, Bugme, Farrow, they have all seen her beauty and style, they have seen more of her physical beauty than I have, but did any of them really see her, let alone appreciate her for who she is? I doubt it.

I know the friend. I know the razor sharp litigator, the negotiator (in at least 5 different languages), the fighter. I know the Marine as well as the Lady. The lady she is tonight.

Her dress, as noted, is created just for her; it has to be, flowing delicately along every curve of her body, evidence of a perfect workout. She's in great shape, especially now that I put just a little more body-fat on her. I like slim women, but Mac was downright skinny after exhausting herself during the Polenski trial.

Her legs are long and tanned, visible up to her thighs thanks to the split. Her waist is delicate and thin, her round six is…is it hot in here?

I'm still in my lovesick observational haze when suddenly, she turns to me, a question on her lips. One that never gets to be asked as she catches my gaze and holds it. Now I'm sure it's hot in here!

Mac's POV 

This is the beginning and the end of it. I melt, again. The dance displayed in front of me is forgotten as the dance the two of us have been in for years has just changed rhythm without warning. I'm hypnotized. I'm gone. This is it.

It's hard to tell which one of us bends over first, but it really doesn't matter now, does it? This kiss is …oh my god…this is so agonizingly sweet. So different from the other kisses we shared. Those were all about defeat. Farewells. Regrets. The could, should and would have been moments of our rocky non-existent relationship.

This one is about confession. Yes, we're in love. It's about acknowledgement. Yes, it's okay. And promise. Yes, we're gonna make it work this time.

I honestly can't say how long we're attached at the lips. There is no space in my mind for any other thoughts, any other assaults on my senses than the feelings his arms, his lips, his tongue provoke deep within me. Damn, this man is one great kisser. Of course I knew that, but this is…stop thinking now, just feel. Allow yourself to feel, to respond.

And respond I do. I never had any guy give me a review of my kissing abilities, but I intend to give as well as I take. If the strangled sound coming from deep within his throat is an indication though, I must be doing quite well.

_Harm's POV_

Dear Lord, what's happening? Obviously, I'm kissing, but this isn't anything like every other kiss I either received or gave. I can't breathe, but why would I?

When I was a teenager, right after mom got remarried, I found one of her romance novels underneath her bed. Just out of curiosity, I started reading it. Remember, it was the seventies and the book ended with a rather chased kiss at the altar. But the (female) author did try to explain the joy of feeling someone's kiss.

I remember wanting it that way too and even though, during the years, I've perfected and expanded my abilities and techniques, I never really quite achieved the all-overwhelming sensations this lady author promised. It's both sad and an amazing relief to finally reach that goal; ultimate kissing. Should have known it would have to be Sarah.

She sighs and deepens the kiss even when I thought that wouldn't be possible. A strange kind of strangled cry comes from somewhere deep down. I'm a goner. No more thinking. Just let it happen. As long as she's allowing me.

Mac's POV 

We only part when the applause erupts around us, effectively poking through the vortex we've created around us to shut away all hindrance from the outside world. We look at each other with awe and surprise. Then Harm chuckles and kisses me again lightly.

"I can't believe we just missed the entire first half of the ballet."

"What ballet?"

He erupts in laughter this time and I love the sound of it. After a long time of strained communication between us it's good to know his sense of humor hasn't evaporated. Truth is, as much as I dread to admit it, this wasn't a joke. For a long lasting moment I totally forgot where we are.

"Come on, Ninja girl, let's get some food or at least a cup of coffee into you. You seem a little…out of it."

"And who's to blame for that?"

"Don't have a clue. Give me a hint."

The only hint I can think of is giving him another kiss. Pulling me closer, he groans in response. Until my stomach rumbles slightly. Grinning, Harm ends the kiss with a lingering caress of his hand on my cheek, before reluctantly letting me go.

"Told you. You need some food. We can't live of love alone, you know."

"I guess not, we…wait."

"Wait? For what?"

"Love? Did you just say love?"

_AN: This is where it gets interesting...next time (very evil grin)_


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I'm not quite sure if the next part of the story warrants the rating I gave it, but it does get pretty...heated. Just be warned. And for those who wanted a sequel to "I don't know you anymore"...it's in the making.

**Disclaimer**: Well, another Christmas coming up...but I don't think DJE will fit through the chimney...oh well...

_On we go..._

_Harm's POV_

My first thought at her question isn't so much a thought as it is an alarm bell going off in my head. I said the ultimate four-letter word. Just like that. Years I've been waiting to say it, only to be too chicken to actually pull it of every time an opportunity, an opening was presented to me.

Maybe I've been over thinking this, maybe this is how it was meant to be. No thinking at all, just…put it in an honest sentence and let it take its course. After all, she kissed me back, and she's still here… methinks she wants it to be true, wants me to love her. And I do. I've said it, I'll validate it. It's what I need to do, what I want to do.

_Mac's POV_

He seems to mull this over, then gives me a smile. Not his usual Flyboy smirk, but a heart-stopping, honest smile that reaches his eyes. Never before in my life has this man looked more perfect to me.

"I did. Didn't I?"

I can only nod, surprised he's not backing out, not denying. Before I can ask any questions about his intentions, he cups my face, forcing me to look at him. As if I could look anywhere else.

"And I mean it too, Sarah. I'm in love with you. It's time to just have it all out in the open."

I whimper as I feel myself fall apart. Truly; I don't know whether to laugh or scream or cry…to run or to bury myself in his embrace forever. I have no clue.

I have to act fast, though. I know my Flyboy. If I continue with this silence for too long, he'll take it the wrong way and we'll end up worse than we did so long ago with Mic and Renee still around. I don't want him to doubt the total reciprocation of his feelings, don't want him to doubt me. Speak, Marine! Open your mouth and tell him!

"Harm…I…"

Sorry, but I have to swallow to get my voice back in working order. And he's still staring…okay, deep breath, next try…here we go…

"I'm in love with you too Harm, for as long as I can remember."

I said it! Way to go, Ninja-girl! Harm seems to think so too, as he's pulling me against him, lips eagerly searching mine in a kiss that should be illegal for the permanent damage it does to my brain-cells. And at least R-rated for the promises it holds for the remainder of this evening.

_Harm's POV_

Who's the man?! She loves me. I, Harmon Rabb Jr. am loved by this…this goddess. I am loved by my Sarah! The only ultimately anticlimactic shock is the fact that I could and should have known this for years had I only taken my chances sooner, but tonight, I'll gladly banish those thoughts forever, bury them with every other regret I ever had about stupid decisions and youthful indiscretions, and firmly close the lid on them. There's no time like the present and for the present, Sarah loves me. And I love her. Let's seal this deal with a kiss.

She responds with a gusto easily matching my own, before a low rumbling noise ends it.

_Mac's POV_

Again, it's a hunger from a different kind that interrupts our romantic interlude. If I still want something to eat other than the man holding me, I have to make it fast. Break time should be over in eight minutes and thirty-five seconds. Hey, my clock is back!

Harm leads me to the small lobby and finds us a secluded table in a corner.

"Hold my seat, I'll get us a drink and whatever I can get to feed you."

I wait impatiently, not just because I'm hungry, but suddenly even a minute without Harm seems intolerable. He must have had the same idea as he's back in less than four minutes, people parting for his tall frame like the Red Sea. Delicately he's balancing two cups of steaming coffee and two cupcakes on a wobbly tray.

"It's not much, but it's all they had. So I brought you two of them."

"What, coffee or cakes?"

"Cakes. I need the coffee for myself."

Not awaiting my inevitable whining, he takes a gulp of the hot liquid, chokes, splutters and ends up all but spilling the remains on his shirt. Quickly I take the cup from him and grab for the napkins he so thoughtfully brought with him.

"See? That's what you get for denying a Marine her rightful dosage of coffee."

He manages to swallow, though still coughing and with a scornful look he plucks the crumpled napkins from my hands to wipe some tiny droplets trickling down his chin. Damn! I wanted to do that, and not with napkins either. Somehow the combination of coffee and Flyboy seems too good to be true to me and I can't wait to find out.

However, we're in a public place, a pretty posh one at that, so I have to keep my unladylike thoughts on the backburner for now. For now, let's emphasize that.

Just as I finish the last cupcake, not even daring a glance in Harm's direction to prevent myself from dragging him into a nearby broom closet (what's gotten into me?), the bell rings again and a detached female voice kindly requests the guests to get back into the concert hall.

We find ourselves back on our balcony seats again. As the lights fade out, Harm seductively whispers:

"Ready to miss the second half too, Sarah?"

He kisses the same spot in my neck and I can feel myself come apart again. But as much as I want Harm, I do want the ballet too. Besides, a little restraint could never hurt my Flyboy. I like him on the edge.

So before my own restraint hurts me, I lean back against his chest ever so little, but keep my eyes focused on the stage, where the second part has just started.

"Hush now, Sailor, I do want to see the rest of the ballet."

He groans in what I hope is understanding, but I can't be sure. He relents though and while he insists on holding my hand, it's all the contact between us for the duration of the performance. Now, don't get me wrong, just holding hands with Harm is not as innocent as it sounds. He's driving me nuts. On the outside, we're two people with their hands entwined. But meanwhile, his thumb is casually, slowly, grazing over the sensitive inner flesh of my hand, making it very difficult to concentrate. A fact he's of course very well aware off, as he's obviously doing this on purpose, watching me as I purposefully try to focus on the dance in front of me.

He's not getting this little satisfaction, though. I'll die before telling him how just a graze of his thumb against my palm can floor me. He's cocky enough as it is. But I'm not stopping him either. Why on earth would I?

_Harm's POV_

She's torturing me, actually turning her back on my to watch the dancing figures on stage again. Not that her back isn't beautiful as the rest of her, with the sparkle of the shoulder straps on her tanned skin, but considering how we missed practically all of the first half, I was kind off hoping we could skip the second half too…But apparently she really is into this gig. Well, okay, I'll back off. For now.

Doesn't mean I can't tease her a little, as I won't be ignored. I hold on to her hand, a seemingly innocent gesture between a couple. Then I start the little game. With just my thumb I start drawing circles against the soft skin of her palm. I know for a fact (seducing women is lots of trial and error, then sticking to the parts that always prove their value) that this part of the female body is very underrated. You can do lots of damage to someone's self-control with just this particular gesture.

She sighs as she feels it first and shifts uneasily in her chair. I can tell she wants to pull her hand free, but I won't let her. Without showing any visible signs, I just continue my ministrations until she relaxes and just lets me. But the Marine-discipline is still keeping her focused on the stage. Doesn't matter, as long as she knows, and feels, I'm here. This is just very slow foreplay. And I'm sure she won't have any regrets when this dance is finally over.

_Mac's POV_

Finally, the ballet ends and even though it was truly a brilliant performance, part of me is glad that, after the applause has died down, we can get out. The moment his hand lets go of mine, I almost whimper with the loss of contact.

Suddenly, I know what Cinderella must have felt like when midnight struck. Not that I think Harm's Corvette has turned into a pumpkin or that I'll lose my slipper walking down this stairs, but outside, the real world awaits. The world we left behind as just friends, and sometimes barely even that.

And if I ever wondered why fairytales usually abruptly stop and we'll just have to assume they truly live 'happily ever after', now I know. Because 'Cinderella the sequel: Cold feet' will never make it to the big screen.

I know what I feel for him. That one's easy. I know now what he feels for me. He just said it. And still, that was in a dark, romantic date-like setting. More correctly: that was after I caught him staring at me like I'm something short of a miracle. Maybe, to Harm, I am. Hell, I don't know.

Outside, Harm direct us to the parking spot, opening and closing the Corvette for me, still in his gentleman mode.

"Wanna go somewhere for a drink, or…eh…a talk, maybe?"

Wait a minute, is he as nervous as I am? Not that I like it when he's ill at ease, but maybe he's struggling with the same kind of doubts as I am. Oh do we ever need to talk. But not in some anonymous restaurant or café. I wanna have this talk in the safety of my own home, so I can go into hibernation immediately when this goes down the drain.

"Drive us to your place, Harm. I'll take my own car and you can follow me in yours. We can talk in my apartment."

He nods almost imperceptibly, not questioning my choice of destination, before starting the car and getting us back down the road. For long minutes we just drive in silence, and it's getting to me. We kissed, we admitted our love to each other and now…where are we now?

He must have felt I was getting edgy, or he must start to feel edgy too, because suddenly I feel his big hand covering mine. He gently grasps it and brings it to his lips to brush a kiss against my knuckles. I shiver and manage a little watery smile.

"We'll be okay, Sarah."

His promise calms me enough to relax for the remainder of the ride home. While I take my own car to drive to my place, his absence for the first time this evening already strikes me as another loss. How can I miss him so much already? How can the several feet separating us feel like light-years? What's going on? I force myself to watch the road. In my rearview mirror I can see Harm blinking his headlights just to let me know he's still hot on my tail and somehow that simple token appeases me enough to relax in my seat.

_Harm's POV_

I'm not mad about the sudden hesitation that seems to set in between us as we leave the safe haven where our fairytale began. I can actually understand it, as I feel it too. Here, on the outside, in the grim dark of the parking lot, we have to face the real world again.

It feels like every other time I took a girl home after the first date, hoping that she'd at least let me kiss her, or maybe just a bit more (since we've already done the kissing part), but much, much worse.

Worse, because we're adults, worse, because if this doesn't work out, I won't bounce back like I did when I was just a boy. Back then, if a girl didn't want to hang out with me, be my girlfriend, or whatever we called it back in those days, I would fret or maybe cry a little for a day or two, before the pain was over and I was ready to move on.

It was pretty much the same idea with most women in my adult life. With the exception of Diane, whose death left a profound pain in my heart, now reduced to a dull, sometimes aching place. And Mac. The one who's always on my mind. If something, anything would go wrong tonight and I end up losing her over it, I'm sure I won't recover. Not in two days, two years or two decades.

That's why it's worse.

The only solution is not to let anything go wrong. To follow her lead for now. She's made her choice, to have "the talk" at her place. It's fine by me.

As she drives alone in her Corvette in front of me, I know she must feel the sense of immediate loss of contact as profoundly as I do. Even after just a few hours I can't bare not to touch her. And even though I'm very much aware that this is no longer a fairytale, but real life, and I'm Harm, not Prince Charming, I hold on to that knowledge like a beacon.

Because I thinks she needs one too, I flash my headlights once. Don't worry, I'm right here.

_Mac's POV_

Only when I open the door to my apartment after waiting patiently until he caught up with me, do I feel the goose bumps again. I feel like I'm about to sign away my soul, either to the devil or to love. Whichever one resides in my Flyboy's body tonight.

Tentatively I take a seat, feeling strangely out of place in my own apartment. A trail of evidence of my earlier preparations can still be seen. The towel is discarded on the bedroom floor and the doors to my bedroom and the bathroom both stand ajar. A myriad of perfume bottles, body lotion, scrubs, creams and nail polish is haphazardly thrown all over the bed itself. The curling iron, my razor, nail file, several stockings and underwear (whoops, that's supposed to be a woman's best kept secret) are tumbling out of a the half-opened drawers of my vanity… Clearly all this tells the tale of a woman getting ready to impress. Like you would do when you're in love.

I can see Harm's eyes follow mine as he comes in right behind me. His mouth curves into a grin when he surveys the 'grime scene' I left behind. He looks relaxed and amused, apparently taking some kind of pleasure in the sight before him. Maybe he's flattered that a woman will go through so much trouble just to look good for him? Or is he used to it, does he take it for granted?

His smile is barely there at first, but suddenly it splits open like the Red Sea. My heart sinks as I realize what he has just spotted.

With three strides he's in my bedroom, fingers smudging the heart drawing on the vanity.

"Feeling romantic tonight, Ninja Girl?"

_Harm's POV_

Okay, so I thought I got into this date all the way, but now that I overlook Mac's bedroom I really wonder what she was thinking when she got ready. This place looks like a regular disaster area, all that's missing is a yellow crime-scene tape and the outlining of a body on the floor.

Drawers are wide open, all kinds of interesting lacy stuff peeking out, as well as a variety of devices that look like they belong in a medieval torture chamber.. Spread on her bed are bottles, containers, pencils and in the middle of this nuclear war zone there is a heart drawn on the mirror with familiar soft pink lipstick.

A heart. Like a schoolgirl. A heart…for me. Because she's in love with me.

Now I asked her if she's feeling romantic…nervous about her answer, hoping she won't regret it.

_Mac's POV_

I gulp, not knowing what to say. Please don't let him think I planned to seduce him…wait. I did plan to seduce him. Maybe not consciously but still, when have I not secretly planned to seduce Harm Rabb? When I said Marines go in prepared, what was I preparing myself for if not this? So if he's here, and I'm here, and neither one of us forced the other one to be here, than what the hell am I waiting for?

Out of nowhere, the thick, suffocating cloud vanishes as the fact of the matter comes clear in my head. All of a sudden I feel wonderful and alive. So I prepared myself. Harm's looking good enough to eat, he's not laughing at me, not making fun of me. He's in my bedroom, he's still smiling, he's not running as fast as he can in the opposite direction, he's…he's mine for the taking!

So, I repeat: what are you waiting for, Marine?

I answer his question with a sassy grin as I glide over to the threshold of my bedroom. His smile grows wider.

"Feeling very romantic, Sailor."

One step further and he catches me in his waiting arms, kissing me hard and hungry. I don't mind that the tenderness takes a backseat for a while.

The mess that is my bedroom gets an aftershock as the tsunami of our passion takes over. The beautiful new blue dress gets discarded right there at the doorstep, the jacket of his tux covers it, the dress shirt takes residence somewhere in the vicinity of the chair, my strapless bra flies…jeez, I don't know, I've got better things to do than focus on the LZ's of our garments. I have skin to caress, lips to kiss. It's pure carnage, tenderness has left the building hours ago.

But it's okay, we'll have plenty of time for slow and easy. And I know he'll never hurt me. Though to be honest I'm not sure about the other way around as I feel him gasp. Damn! Poor Harm, first, I almost choke him trying to rip his bow-tie off, and now my paws with the perfectly manicured nails are leaving scratch marks on his back…

I wish I could get into the juicy details, but the moment we're both naked as the day we were born, all details fly out of my mind and I can only feel. And feel in do. Wonderful, alive, vibrant…loved. Even if he hadn't told me, he's making me feel it with every fiber of my body. In between, I can only hope he knows I love him too.

_And I can only hope you still like my story...next and last installment coming soon!_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN**: Hi everybody! I'm in a very happy mood today (got my semi-annual check-up yesterday and I'm doing just fine)...which menas you now have to suffer with some fluffy sweetness...and the last chapter of this story. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: All I own is my health (which is most important after all), so sadly I don't own the characters of JAG...oh well...

_Here we go..._

_Harm's POV _

This isn't lovemaking, this is fast and greedy, but neither of us seem to mind. We haven't been teasing the other one for just this night, but more like these past years.

And now, we don't have time for slow and tender, though I'll make time later. She deserves slow and tender…if she wants it. But she's just as frantic as I am.

I kiss, nibble, caress every piece of skin that gets uncovered and it seems like Mac has five pairs of hands as I can feel them everywhere. It hasn't been this good since…oh hell, it's never been this good ever. Period.

Normally, I'm not the kind of man who lets go easily. Being a pilot, it means I have to focus 100 percent or die (or get my RIO killed) and I have suffered dire consequences every time my attention got diverted even the slightest. As a result, that knowledge, that way of life, is embedded in everything I do, including my actions in the bedroom, with every woman I've shared my or her bed with.

Not with Sarah. Nothing will happen to me if I give myself to Sarah. I won't die if I surrender control. In fact, I'll die if I won't, my whole body is screaming for it. So yes, I surrender, hoping she's feeling it too, feeling as loved as I do…

_Mac's POV_

After hours, and don't ask me how many, because I have no clue as my inner clock is most definitely and permanently out of whack, he stirs, propping himself up on one arm as not to squash me beneath him, gently pushing some stray hairs out of my eyes with the other one.

"Hi."

He sounds hoarse, shy and damn sexy. What, shy? Really, it's the only way I can describe it. Not regretful, not insecure…just shy. Like he needs a review of his performance. He needn't worry about that at all. I mean, this took hours. HOURS! And he's closing in on forty.

With one finger I trail the small stubble appearing on his cheeks. He's so beautiful, it makes me shy too. Somehow the fact I just made the most incredible love with the only man who ever mattered hasn't quite settled in yet. If it's half as…intimidating for him as it is for me, then I can understand why he suddenly sounds so vulnerable.

"Hi yourself."

He grins at me and gently pecks my lips, teasingly holding back when I arch my back to capture more. When I groan in unsuppressed frustration, he just smiles and gives in anyway. Breaking contact after a while, he looks at me with a sweet mixture of concern and humor.

"Weren't we supposed to talk?"

We were, weren't we? Somehow we got a little sidetracked. Wonder how hat happened? At least I didn't hear him complain. I decide to tell him as much.

"I think our body language speaks volumes, doesn't it? At least I didn't hear you complain. Unless those moans were only from the effort it takes at your age, not from pleasure?"

"Are you assuming something, Marine?"

I love this, the teasing, the bantering, the loving. This is how it's always supposed to work between us. Maybe we are getting it right this time.

"I might be, Sailor."

He grins easily at me, the smile that sends the electric bolts through me. I shiver when his fingertip trails a path between my breasts.

"Give me a few minutes to catch my breath and I'll prove you wrong my dear, Very, very wrong indeed."

"Can't wait."

No, really, I'm not lying. One would think that after a night like this I'd be out cold, but hell no, I'm wide awake and I'm in need of his love yet again. I've got years of innuendo and miscommunication to erase. He grins and pulls me on top of him. His searing kiss is just a promise of what's to come.

"I should teach you some patience, dear Marine. It would do you a lot of good to show some restraint."

"Says the man who's just made it impossible for me to wear my uniform next Monday."

His puzzled look is so cute it almost makes me lose track of the conversation.

"Come again?"

"Gladly."

"Ma-ac. Head out of gutter and answer the question. What on earth do you mean by not being able to wear your uniform. Not that I object to you not wearing your uniform as I certainly like you better without it..."

He nibbles my earlobe before I can remind him to get his own head out of that same gutter and hear him gasp when he finds the answer to his own question perched directly at my pulse underneath my right jaw line.

"Oh now I see."

His fingertip traces the outline of what has to be the world's most horrendous hickey and I can hear him chuckle. I'll be damned if he's not proud if it too, stupid Squid.

"Admiring your handiwork, Flyboy?"

"It's a regular Picasso! Besides, I don't think hands were involved, Mac. Lips maybe..."

His voice trails off as his lips nip at the love-bite. Instantly my temperature rises, but I refuse to let him know it.

"Don't you dare make it any worse!"

"Come on Mac, nothing some make-up can't cure."

Who does he think I am? Michael freakin' Jackson? I own my girly share of make-up, but not that much. Max Factor doesn't deliver in gallon-sized containers.

"Harm, it's the size of Cuba!"

"Nah, Jamaica, maybe, but it doesn't look like Cuba at all."

Great. A lesson in topography by Harmon Rabb. If this wasn't the most unbelievable situation I've ever found myself in already, I would have to say that he was making me crazy. It's impossible to stay mad at him or to keep up with the topic of conversation while he's so thoroughly enjoying himself with the slow continuous torture of his victim of choice. Namely me.

He keeps nuzzling, kissing and nipping at the already tainted spot, softly humming in himself. I groan in a combination of pleasure and annoyance as I quickly lose trail of my thoughts. Why was I annoyed again?

"Harm, what do you think you're doing?"

"Shhh. I'm going for the Cuba-size mark here."

I almost let him. That space on my neck has forever been my weak spot, but no man before Harm has ever taken so much trouble in finding that out. So of course I'm not mad at him, how could I be?

I mean, I wasn't exactly giving him any red lights when he put it there. But the bigger this hickey gets, the harder it will be to hide and I don't want anybody seeing it yet. Office scuttlebutt is dreadful enough as it is. So as much as I would want him to continue, I have to stop him for my own good.

"Cut it out, Squid!"

"In a minute…"

He's making me so weak…I almost let him…gotta…gotta stop him…need…ammo…

I grab a pillow and start beating him with it. At least it gets his lips away from the task as, laughing, he takes the bait and engages himself from pillow-talk into pillow-fight. I only hope he knows I'm not trying to hurt him in any way.

Just as I'm about to remind him, he snatches the pillow away from me and tosses it...well, somewhere. I don't care, my room is a mess anyway. His hands and lips now become his more effective weapons of choice and what else can this Marine do but surrender? Harm takes no prisoners in the time after that.

_Harm's POV_

This dating Mac thing takes me from one premiere to another. First, I totally let myself go in her arms, knowing without a doubt that she'll catch me when I fall.

To my surprise, she takes it all in. Literally as well if figuratively. One more reason it was so hard for me to give in with other women was the fact that most of them seemed to withhold themselves, in every aspect. When they do that, it's hard to make love to them.

There are lots of euphemism for making love. I won't get into them, because some of them don't do the process of lovemaking any justice. What I'm trying to say is that making love, in my point of view, should be joyful, fun, great. No borders, no barrels…except for what makes your partner feel uncomfortable.

But I guess letting go and simply having fun enjoying each others love only works if you have enough trust in the other one. And that's where all my other relationships have failed. And it's why this one works.

So we have fun. After our initial 'ramp-strike' we both hit the breaks, shifted gear to an easier motion, but still we don't run out of energy, nor fantasies that finally can and therefore should and will be fulfilled. We kiss, we play, we laugh, we banter…nothing new for us, except for the love-making part. The rest goes to show exactly how much trust we've invested in the other one.

She can't even stay mad at me when I found my work of art on her neck. I have to admit it's the most perfect hickey I've ever given a girl and she ought to be lucky she's the one sporting it. And with the myriad of make-up stuff that's now scattered on the floor, she should have enough to cover a dozen of those…hmmm…a dozen more kisses and nibbles to come…

I don't get too far with that idea as my honest attempt gets sabotaged by a pillow. Another game starts immediately. If my Sarah wants to engage herself into a pillow-fight, I'll give it my best shots. This Marine will take a beating, one way or the other.

She's so amazingly beautiful, naked on her bed, smashing a white pillow against my chest…I make a grab for it and seamlessly shift her and myself into another 'game', the one we're so good at…and the one that involves dozens kisses and nibbles…Go Navy!

_Mac's POV_

When we're finally and totally worn out, it's almost dawn. But it's a Saturday, so I'm in no particular hurry. With a sigh of pure satisfaction I crawl against Harm's warm chest, relishing in his body heat and the smell that's now an intoxicating combination of myself, my laundry detergent, our lovemaking and Harm. I'm giddy and happy. Oh...and sleepy.

Suddenly, Harm chuckles just a little, the ripple coursing through his body sending goose bumps through mine.

"What's so funny, Sailor?"

"Weren't we supposed to talk?"

Talk? About what? Oh, right. I remember. I also remember him asking this before.

"Asked and answered, counselor."

"Could you repeat the answer?"

"I wish I knew it. We just have to stop getting sidetracked every time one of us opens his or her mouth."

He looks at me with an endearing fake accusing expression. The mere sight of it melts my bones. I swear, I'm soup. Liquid, warm and apparently very eatable. I'm so absorbed in lovingly gazing in the beautiful eyes of Harmon Rabb, that I almost miss his next retort.

"That's because you only open your mouth to do everything but talking."

Look who's talking. I didn't put that spot on my neck and I'm sure I'll find several others upon closer inspection. Must look like I got the plague by now. As a matter of fact…so does he. Hmmm, maybe they'll quarantine us together…I like the way you think, Marine…besides, it wasn't like he was complaining, again.

"Haven't heard you complain."

"I got some eerie sense of deja-vu here."

I grin. I'm happy. H-A-P-P-Y. I'm in love, lying naked and satisfied in the arms of the man I love, which implies that he's in love with me too. We're bantering. Pillow-talk with Harmon Rabb. Finally. Life can't get any better. Only I have to answer.

"Then stop asking me the same questions over and over again."

"Well, I've forgotten to ask you one question."

"What's that Sailor?"

"Do you kiss on the first date?"

I'm trying my hardest not to laugh. Somehow he's managed to get the single most redundant question ever asked out of his mouth without even twitching and the least I can do is answer him in the same style.

"Depends on the date, I guess."

"What, you got a check-list or something?"

"Uh-huh. Of course. Every woman has one."

"Might I ask what's on these lists?"

"Lots of things, depending on the woman in question."

He looks at me expectantly, like he's about to discover the whereabouts of the Holy Grail. Maybe, to a man, it is. Though I never figured he would take it seriously. Men!

"So, what's on yours?"

"Classified. Need to know. You're not cleared."

"Mac, you've been hanging out with a certain spook for too long. Now, what does a guy need to do to gain access to one such list?"

"Do everything right, of course."

"What's everything? Everything of what?"

Oh I adore egging him on. This pillow-talk is getting way out of control, but I just love him. He's so much like an eager puppy, ready to please his master. Ohhh, kinky. Let's store this thought for future reference...back to eager puppy, eh, Flyboy.

"Everything on the list, dumbass."

"So in order to be able to get to the list, I have to get good marks for that same list, but how can I do everything right on a list I haven't seen yet?"

Jeez, Rabb, when you think about something, you really think about it, don't you? I hope I haven't set myself up for the fall here. Better save the situation, better retreat, slowly and tactically.

"Harm, darling sweet adorable Squid of mine, never mind about that list. You would have passed it anyway. With flying colors...and other assorted pieces of clothing."

"I would, huh? Still wanna know what's on yours."

"Just the basics, really. Loyalty, trust, compassionate, with a good sense of humor and if he's cute, that could be an advantage of course."

He seems to mull this over, chewing on his lower lip. Hey, wait a minute, that's my job now! When I playfully kiss him, he grins and returns the favor, before dropping back against the pillow with me propped up on his chest.

"So I guess I score well on some parts. I can be loyal, I'm usually very trustworthy, I cry at sad occasions and I'm known to laugh once in a while. Only that cute part…"

"Don't worry about the cute part. There's enough cuteness in you to go around."

"Oh…well, in that case…"

He sits up, putting his feet on the floor…what the…

"Where do you think you're going?"

He grins at me, playfully.

"Well, I thought that, since I got, and I quote 'enough cuteness to go around', I might as well go spread it around."

Like hell he is! With more force than in I intended to, I yank him back in bed, which makes him topple over me.

_Harm's POV_

Okay…I guess this means she won't share me. Hmmm…interesting. She's getting proprietary. Good sign/bad sign? Let me think. Good sign, I suppose.

She leans over to kiss me and this kiss is unlike any we've shared this entire night. It's so full of pure and simple, undeniable love, I can feel my heart thump in my throat. Whatever she said or did or joked about all night is summed up in this kiss…she loves me.

I love her.

Definitely a good sign..

_Mac's POV_

Gently I lean over to capture his lips in a kiss that's different from the ones we've been giving each other these passed hours. This one's...not on any list I've ever seen.

I hope he feels that I love him, don't want to share him, don't want to let him slip away again, like all other times before. When we end it, he looks a little cross-eyed and so totally beautiful I just have to sigh.

"So you felt it too?"

Oh yeah, I did. Without a doubt I know what he means. For once, just once, we're on the same page. Without a fight, without much of a talk. Guess we don't need to talk if we can convey so much of our feelings in a kiss…

"I felt it. Straight down to my...toes."

He grins, knowing exactly what I wanted to say instead. His hand sneaks down to gently brush my... toes and I moan softly. His grin is almost evil as I lean closer to him, shamelessly begging for more of his exquisite touch. Just as easily, he gives it to me, all the subtle touches I ache for. Damn Harmon Rabb for being this good. Here we go again.

"I love you, Sarah MacKenzie."

I love you too, Harmon Rabb. With all my pink lipstick heart."

He laughs and gathers me in his arms, to do a lot more than kissing on the first date.

THE END


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